Finally! Italy!

I am sure there are lots of words I could use to talk about Italy, but it's taking me too long to put them together so I will minimize the words for now and offer you all some pictures.

First up, Venice. This is, without doubt, my favorite city. We spent four days and saw damn near the whole place. I would go back in a second because there is still a bunch we didn't see. Some other time. Here is what we saw. (In no particular order.)































I'll post more Venice tomorrow. (I took A LOT of pictures.)

Man Down!

That "man" would be me.

I was out for a run last Friday - 8 miles keeping it in Endurance Zone and finishing fast the last mile as directed. I mean I was finishing really fast - 6:45/mile fast. When suddenly I was airborne - arms stretched out like Superman - and then I was slamming chest first into the ground and listening as the wind was knocked out of me. UNGH!

After I came to a stop and realized I couldn't breath, I rolled over on my back and simultaneously stopped my watch. I lay there for a second while I started breathing - checked to make sure I had all my shit together - teeth, chin, lips: check. Palms: right one shredded, left one sore and dirty but no blood. Knees: surprisingly only mildly scraped. Nipples: intact (Thank you heart rate monitor/nipple protector.) I couldn't believe my face didn't make contact with the ground - them is some strong neck muscles. And then I saw the culprit.

When I was tying my shoes prior to my run I said to my self, "Huh, that one loop looks kind of big. I must be tying my shoes tighter or something. I hope that doesn't flop all over the place and annoy the shit out of me." That little observation came back to haunt me, for as I was flying home on the last mile my toe caught in that oversized shoelace loop and sent me sailing, body-slamming to the ground. Hilarious? Probably, if anyone saw it, but I didn't see anyone around. Painful? Most assuredly.

Being the dedicated age group triathlete with a ball buster for a coach that I am, I got back up and finished my run. That last mile - 6:49. Tha's right!

Ah, but there is more. I biked for over 3 hours on Saturday - easy no problems. Then Sunday I was all excited to run again - 9 miles alternating Endurance Zone/Steady State Zone. It took a while to get going, then it started to hurt. Finally at mile 5 I felt like someone had stuck a knife between a couple of ribs in my chest. And it hurt the rest of the day. So I went to see the doctor this morning. You will all be disappointed to know that I do not have broken ribs - not even worth an X-ray. Probably bruised or pulled some soft tissue - whatever. So now I have to endure being called a wuss (or worse) from my coach. (I'm just kidding - she is very supportive.) (not really - she is really kind of horrifying.) And listen to my wife chuckle every time I wince because she knows what wimps middle aged men are - she works with them every day. I get no respect.

I don't even get good scabs to pick. This was the worst injury ever!

A - Lo - Ha!

Life has really settled into the mundane around here. Nothing of too much interest is happening, thus my long gaps between posts. That will change in a couple of weeks when we leave for our Spring Break trip to Italy. I guess there has been some other news - I am set to race at Hawaii 70.3. I bought my plane tickets last week and confirmed my accommodations. (If you want to know my itinerary - so you know when to avoid the Big Island - send me an email.) Now, I just need the new ride to arrive and for all the snow and potholes to go away so I can get out on the road instead of hammering on the trainer.

Training has been going well. My coach likes to see if she can make me barf (not yet, but close.) I am WAY ahead of last year - even ahead of where I was at the END of last year. I am feeling fit and, now that my injuries are under control, much more positive. It will be a fun spring.

Like I said, not much to speak of. You are free to return to your lives.

A Tired Subject

I have been debating about writing this post for some time. To me the subject seems kind of tired, but as I don't have anything else I thought I would just go for it.

"Health Clubs"

I have developed a love/hate relationship with "health clubs." Part of this is news (the 'love' part) and part of this is nothing new to anyone who has read my blog for awhile (that would be the 'hate' part.)

(Tangential thought alert! Every time I write a post critical of my favorite targets - airlines and "health clubs" - or any other thing that irritates me, I think about all the jobs I can't apply for. Oh, well - it's more important to be entertaining than employed, right?)

So this "love" part is new. I only "love" the club because it has given me the opportunity to rehab my injury without having to struggle outside in the snow, ice and muck. So other than that, it's really mostly "hate."

I have about 10,000 reasons why I hate "health clubs" but I'll whittle it down to a select few.

Locker rooms are GROSS (dudes are gross in locker rooms)

I can't count the number of old band-aids I have seen in the shower. And they are folded up so the person had to take it off, fold it and then just leave it on the shower floor. Disgusting.

Then there is the snorting, coughing, hacking, spitting and snot-rocket blowing in the shower. I guess it's fine if you have to do that, but maybe without so much gusto. Ick.

And in no particular order: dude's junk on the edge of the counter, dude's bare ass on the bench, dudes walking around bare-ass naked - just wrap a fricking towel around your waist, dude's sitting in the sauna - legs spread (with or without towel) - facing the window. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR DANGLING, HAIRY MAN-PARTS, thank you very much.

Other disgusting people

On at least three occasions now I have put my water bottle in the holder on the treadmill and then have had problems getting it out because someone left gum in there. WTF!? I check now. It always seems to be the same kind of gum. Just spit it out before you start.

"Health Club" is a fallacy

I refer to a "health club" rather than a "gym." To me, a "gym" is something at a school with basketball hoops, a cargo net and climbing ropes. And I put it in quotes because I don't really think I see a lot of "health" being gained. I have to admit that I don't know nuthin', 'bout nuthin' on this subject, but I see so few people sweating, breathing even a little heavily or doing exercises correctly that it hardly seems like a place people are getting "healthy." Even when they are working with "personal trainers" they seem to be "working" very little.

Waste of money

I find a "health club" to be a total waste of money. I do have to temper this opinion somewhat, because I have gotten a lot of use out of it these last few months, but for the most part I think a lot of money is paid for very little use. Now that it's getting nice out the last thing I will want to do is run inside so it will become even less useful.

The Cast of Characters

Then there's the cast of characters:

The chick who is there seemingly all day, everyday - halter top (open back, so no bra?) and a tennis skirt. On the elliptical, not at all working hard, typing on her laptop.

The heavy sweater who hammers on every machine he is on and sweats profusely - (that would be me.)

The muscle-meatheads who wear tight wife-beaters (matching with their friends) or muscle t-shirts with the sleeves cut wide open and then walk around all puffed up. It doesn't disguise their gut - so dude, you're not "buff" you're just "fat."

And finally, the fat complainer. I see this woman, who is working with a personal trainer, and every time the trainer has her do something even moderately strenuous she exclaims, "Oh my god, you can't be serious?" It's never fails to make me smile. In an uncomfortable way.

I guess this kind of turned into a rant. Sorry about that. I'll try to find my funny again for my next post.

"Shitter's Full"

We have been invaded by the local news media. Here they are in front of our house. Been there all day.




I was tempted (and actually encouraged by my wife) to throw on the "Cousin Eddie"


grab my three-legged dog


and see if I could get a little air time. I couldn't find any cigars or my white belt. Maybe next time.

Don't Want to Live Like a Refugee

This post is for all you Ass-Facebook friends. ; )

Last night we were refugees. All right, not really, but we were evacuees. The story goes like this. About 1:30 I come home after a lunch meeting to a closed off street and a cop camped out. I park my car and ask what's going on. He explains that a crew was using a horizontal boring machine to lay some cable along the busy street that is near our house (I had seen them working earlier.) Somewhere along the line they nicked a gas main (the BIG gas pipe) and they were in the process of excavating down to fix it. He went on to tell me that we were safe and could be in our houses, they just didn't want cars driving down the street.

So I walk down to my house and run into a utility worker and ask him what's up. He says they are excavating down to get to the gas leak, but that we are safe because the gas is venting and there shouldn't be any danger, but be sure to let them know if we smell gas in our house. I had another meeting at 2:00 so I grabbed a couple of things and left for an hour. When I came back the street was still blocked off, but now there were flames shooting out of the street (or so it seemed from a distance) and there were fire trucks and all my neighbors were walking up the street towards me. I stopped one and she told me that the house on the corner had exploded and was completely gone. I didn't know which corner - on our side of the street or the other side? She said that everyone was being ordered to evacuate because it was still dangerous. I talked to the cop and told him my dog was still in my house and he let me down the street to get him. As I am going into my house another cop comes up and says I have to evacuate and I tell him I need to get my dog and I will be gone. He waits while I get the dog and leave.

While I was sitting in my car with the dog trying to get a hold of my wife so she knew not to come home the mobile units from every TV station in town pull up and park, effectively blocking the street. What a bunch of douchebags! Luckily the cop was on top of it and told them they had to park in a parking lot about four blocks away. See ya, suckers!

When we were finally able to get back into our house this morning there were three news trucks parked in front of our house and in the middle of the street totally preventing anyone who lives on the street from getting to their homes and, god forbid, if there were another emergency no first responders would be able to get through. To make matters worse, every person who walked down the street was accosted by a reporter asking for a comment. I just scowl and give them the "stink eye" and they avoid me, but my sweet wife ended up on the tube. She's much cuter than I am anyway so she is a much better representative for our family and neighborhood.

The house that exploded was across the street and two houses away from us. We lived in the house behind it for eight years.

Here are some pictures:









We were evacuated until midnight last night, but we just stayed at my in-laws (they are vacationing in Florida.) It was a terrible night's sleep. First, they have a terrible bed. It's one of those "Sleep Number" beds and is so uncomfortable. Second, it was my in-laws bed. It just felt weird to be sleeping in their bed. With their daughter. Ick.

Now we are back in our house and the main street is open (but not ours) and every morbidly curious person is slowly driving past, getting-off on some poor family's tragedy. I just don't get that. At least everyone is safe.

And this is why I couldn't do my bike or swim (yes, the pool was open but I wasn't about to chase around and find my suit and goggles with a cop watching me through our front door.)

Getting to Florida

So this trip to Florida started out as a damn fuck-show. We pull into the parking ramp and as we are getting our bags out of the car A realizes she doesn’t have her license in her billfold. We pull all the cards and crap out of her wallet and have it strewn about the back of the car searching and searching again for something that isn’t there. I was surprisingly calm. What are you gonna do? Shit happens.

In a fluster we decide that I will take the kids and get checked in. (We were checked in but our seats are all over the plane so we wanted to see if we could get a couple together anyway.) A gets in the car and speeds home.

I take the kids into the terminal and then realize that A still has their boarding passes. Then I realize that I have no easy way to access their tickets to get new boarding passes because A has the credit card she booked the tickets with along with my credit card which she took to get out of the parking ramp.

As I am standing there slowly calculating my next move I look over and see this woman. She is immediately familiar and I do a double take. Now, A watches this show called “Millionaire Matchmaker.” I occasionally watch with her and on the most recent occasion there was this CRAZY woman millionaire looking for a man and now she is standing in front of me.

Here she is at the airport.

Here she is on the show. (Nice fake lips and too much Botox, bitch!)

It finally dawned on me that the only thing I could do was get in line to meet with a “ticket agent.” Oh, joy of joys. That fucking line was a million miles long. While in line I called Delta to see if they could rebook us on the good chance we would miss our flight. Although not surly they weren’t particularly bubbly either. I guess I won’t complain – at least I didn’t get verbally abused. Turns out if we didn’t make this flight we wouldn’t be able to leave until tomorrow night. “Kids. Start saying prayers.”

We get through the line and I’m pissing around with a kiosk at which I can get my information but nothing for A or the kids. Then my phone rings and it’s A. She is entering the parking ramp and I tell her which side to park on and which door we are closest to. I cancel out of our check-in and A comes down the escalator and we get together, get through security and run to the gate. (I walked quickly. A and the kids ran.)

Gate agents – Pissy. Can’t/won’t help get us seats together. “You’ll have to rely on the kindness of strangers.” Thanks very little for your customer service.

My darling children’s prayers were answered and although we aren’t sitting together, we are all on the flight. (Why didn’t I say a prayer? You should all know me well enough, I am piloting that rocketship to hell remember and god probably would hear my request and laugh and laugh and laugh.)

A is sitting in a middle seat next to a gargantuanely fat guy. You know, the guy who is so fat his lily-ass white, hairy, inevitably sweaty belly oozes over his belt and out from under his too small shirt. I am surrounded by babies. They’re cute and, for the most part, quiet, but a crying baby drives me up a wall. I know that sounds intolerant, but I don’t fault the parents or the kids. I remember being there. It ain’t easy traveling with little ones and, contrary to popular belief, they have minds of their own and don’t obey, like dogs. (I know, inconvenient, right?)

We made it to Fort Meyers and are off to get our rental car. As soon as I get off the plane I lose my cell signal. WTF!? I hate Florida and this is only making it worse. We go to rent a car and our credit card is declined. WTF!? I call "customer service" to find out what is going on and try to calmly inquire with A as to when she paid the bill. (It wasn't received well. I am assuming it was a combination of the situation and perhaps my delivery.) Turns out we are over our limit. So I start to question the "customer service" person about recent charges. (The thing is, we never use this credit card except for travel and special large purchases, so we are befuddled as to why we would be over our limit.) I get online and see that A has indeed paid the bill by BillPay, but it hasn't cleared yet. I tell the "customer service" person, and they suggest we do a phone payment, but it won't clear until Sunday (it's Friday night) so I tell him forget it. (Why would I pay the bill twice, you dope?)

Now, to rent a car we can use our debit card, which I checked and has plenty of funds, but we need a return itinerary so we have to go back to the ticket agent and get this, which takes way longer than it should. Finally, we get a car.

We open the door of our "non-smoking" car and it smells like a fricking ashtray. There, in the middle of the driver's seat, is a cigarette burn. God I hate Florida.

(While driving, A and I have a calm conversation about the credit card. Turns out we returned a huge purchase that has not been credited back to the card yet. Neither of us thought to check. Then we laughed because as we were getting in the car to get the kids out of school A had said, "I can't believe how smoothly this trip is going." She admitted it was the kiss of death.)

The Partial Sunshine State

We are heading down to Florida in a couple of hours for an extra long weekend. As has been well established, I am a fan of none of the following things: air travel, Florida, sitting around by the pool or on the beach. A and the kids will be staying a little longer than me. I am sure there will be many "interesting" adventures to report on.

Oh Monday - You Can Suck It!

Well, not unlike many other areas of the country, it's snowing again. Enough already. I am supposed to have a rest day and now nature is forcing an unscheduled weight and core workout on me. Bastard.

I am sure you are all wondering, "Assface, what do you do on a Monday such as the day you are currently experiencing?" And to you I respond, "It's MR. Assface to you!"

Seeing as how the dog has been cooped up too much lately, I took him to doggy daycare. This should tire him out so he won't have any energy to chew socks, mittens, LEGOs, Barbies, my Garmin and the endless numbers of dirty Kleenexes my wife is producing.

Yes, my wife is sick. My wife never gets sick so this is somewhat blogworthy. She currently has a bad cold, that I really hope doesn't develop into something worse, like pneumonia, because that could happen with her. (Compromised immune system, which is, strangely the reason she so rarely gets sick - she gets a monthly treatment that gives her IS a recharge.) With her cold comes endless nose blowing and Kleenexes, then the dog hovers around like she is dropping bacon bits from her nose. We have stopped chasing him. He just chews them until the flavor is gone, they are soaking wet and then he shreds them to bits. Stoopid dog. (He is chewer and a shredder. I have to give him credit for not actually "eating" the stuff he destroys. I know because I "check" - dog owners, you know what I'm talking about.)

Later on the docket is ART practitioner #2. #1 didn't seem to know what he was doing. When I reported that it really didn't hurt coach said, "Well, that can't be right" and her ART person concurred. This guy had better know what he's doing!

All right, I better get in the car and on the road since a drive that takes 10 minutes on a normal day will now take an hour in this weather. Stoopid winter.

I Don't Think I Did That Right

We got back from Las Vegas a couple of days ago and I have to say it may have been an epic failure.

That is not to say that I didn't have a good time with A and no kids and our friends and their new baby and JS. I mean, there was no drama or scandal or gun play or gratuitous nudity or hostage situations or blackmail or need for massive doses of antibiotics.

The flight there on Delta/Northworst Thursday night was actually fairly pleasant. We had a male flight attendant who was incredibly helpful and patient and, dare I say, friendly. The return flight on Sunday was not that way.

We flew back on US Airways, which is undoubtedly the WORST airline in America. (That "honor" changes depending on the airline I've flown on most recently, so for now US Airways "wins.") First off the planes were totally "ghetto" - looking like they hadn't been cleaned or updated since the late 1980's. And then there were the employees. WTF!? If you hate dealing with people, don't work for an airline where you have to "WORK WITH PEOPLE." These were some of the surliest, most redneck, fuckups I have ever seen working for an airline. The gate agent makes an announcement that the flight is full and there may not be enough space for carry-ons so they would allow you to check your bag at the gate free of charge. I had a fairly large carry-on so I walked up to get a gate check. This BITCH looked at me like I was the biggest piece of shit she had ever seen, rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, I suppose." Well, FUCK YOU for doing your job - she had a hand full of luggage tags - that is what she was DOING! Then A says she can take hers, too. She looks at A like she is slightly smaller piece of shit than me and says, "Yours will have to with the regular luggage." No explanation why. Nothing. FUCK! (There. That is the requisite "airline" rant that you have come to loathe and expect whenever I have to travel. It's cathartic for me. Thanks.)

There was food. We ate at Nobu on Friday night. Now, I love sushi and Japanese food, but I was expecting a less than exciting experience considering the reputation Nobu has - that reputation being amazingly fantastic. Well, I have to say that it lived up to the hype. The food was phenomenal and we had a great time sitting around laughing and people watching. Saturday for lunch I insisted on In-N-Out Burger. It was my first and won't be my last. (I was aware of the "secret menu" and now I wish I would have taken some time to research it so I could have ordered something a little less "standard" - next time.) The place was packed. We took a cab from the Premium Outlet Mall (the baby needed to get out and get some fresh air after all that time in the casino) and stopped on the way back to the hotel. The cabby was super cool and said that he would stop the meter for 10 minutes, but ended up leaving it off for the entire time it took us to get our food.

I had a great cabby who drove me to the outlet mall (our "party" got separated because I was getting a massage.) Due to bad traffic on the highway he took me on back streets. There were a lot of welding shops, car service shops and other light industrial. I commented, "Well, this is a part of Vegas I haven't been before," then we ran into the strip clubs, "never mind, I have been here before." He laughed.

There was a suite. We stayed at the Four Seasons at Mandalay Bay. Yes, that sounds fabulous (and it was) but the price was right - two nights with the third night free and an upgrade to a suite for $50 - all for less than the price of hotel rooms we have stayed in in Chicago.

There were a few spa visits. That sounds kind of "metro" I am sure, but my visits consisted of two massages and too much time on an elliptical machine. I had the same masseuse both times and both times, she was standing on her toes with her elbow in my glute. I think she may have needed a nap after - she looked a little worn out. (OK any massage therapists out there - when a massage therapist says, "That was great. I could work on you for another hour," is this a compliment? Meaning you can really get in there and don't have to hold back or does it mean I am really messed up? I have gotten that a couple of times.)

We also went to a show. We saw the Cirque du Soleil show "O" at the Bellagio. I really enjoyed it. I am sure there was supposed to be some sort of a "story" but it was lost on me. Once I stopped trying to figure it all out (after about 5 minutes) I just enjoyed the spectacle.

We gambled at Mandalay and the Hard Rock. A thinks she won, but I lost so the family is probably "down" overall. It's not that I am necessarily a "bad" gambler (I did take a couple of questionable hits) I was just getting the shittiest cards. Lots and lots of 2s, 3s, 4s. We were all playing well enough to remain at the tables for a few hours each time we went, so we got our money's worth of fun. All the dealers we had were WAY cooler than I remember them. Except for one - Gary.

What is it with "Gary?" I spent 12 hours in Madison chasing "Gary" around and now in Vegas "old dealer Gary" was hitting on my wife. I wasn't there to witness it having lost and gone to bed earlier, but A and our friend T confirmed it. The first time we met Gary he was pretty entertaining. He told us the story of how a security guard about the size of A came flying into a hog-pile trying to hold down a raging Wesley Snipes and broke his arm like a twig. He also introduced us to another player who joined our table and he turned out to be a bee keeper from northern California. Some comment was made about this guy's hands and he explained that they were dirty and cracked from handling bees and wax and it was probably permanent. Normally that would totally gross me out, but I was kind of fascinated by the fact that the guy was a professional bee keeper. (And I don't drink, so it wasn't an alcohol induced fascination, which I realize makes me sound like even more of a lunatic.)

Having read this post several times I realize that my 67 year old mother had a more exciting time the last time she was in Vegas. I have become a stodgy old poop WAY before my time. Sorry to have bored you all for this long.

Blaaaaaahhhhhh-rrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!

Well, it's that time of year. The time of year when I start to question what the hell I am doing with my life. That, or it's seasonal affective disorder, but I prefer the obsessive navel gazing and questioning the choices in my life because it makes for a better (or sadder or more self-indulgent - definitely self-indulgent) blog post.

Winter seems so ridiculously long at this point. I know! No one is holding a gun to my head keeping me here, but, as I have pointed out before, all my stuff is here and I really hate moving. And when I say "stuff" I am including my wife and kids and dog and my emotional baggage - you know, the "stuff" I have become strangely and strongly attached to.

Come mid-April it will be two years since I was laid off from my full-time job as a commercial interior designer. At this point though, everything gets rounded up, so - it's been two years since I had a job. I have done some other things in the past two years, but seeing as those were short-term and part-time they don't seem to register or count.

A thought just occurred to me - didn't I formulate a plan for the future a number of weeks back? (The same thought probably occurred to you way before it occurred to me and I appreciate you sticking with this post as this is territory we have trampled before.) Yeah, the plan. OK I just need to work the plan. All right - enough of this then.

Injury update

I will have my next PT appt. on Wed. Since my initial appt. I have been doing my exercises and feeling major improvement. I now walk up and down stairs without pain. I rode the trainer for 90 minutes and felt no residual effects later in the day as I had been - my ass still hurts, but that is just my boney butt. I will do a short run this afternoon and see how everything feels after that. This evening I do my exercises again - twice a day, already did them this morning.

This past Saturday I was supposed to run the Frozen Half-marathon (see Steve in a Speedo's report here) but opted to pass so as to not aggravate my injury or my wife or both. It was a very wise decision as the weather was less than ideal - rainy (gross,) cold (miserable) and potentially icy (dangerous - for me anyway.) I am also happy to report that neither my injury nor my wife were aggravated Saturday morning. (My wife may have been aggravated, but no more so than usual. She is married to me after all so a constant level of aggravation is included with this premium package.)

Travel update

This past weekend my lovely wife celebrated her 40th birthday. This weekend we will really celebrate it with a trip to Vegas with two of her college girlfriends, one of their husbands and a 5-month-old baby. I know and love all these people (except the baby - we've never met) so I am looking forward to a good time. I hope to have some pictures and words to prove how much fun we had. And since I am "Sober Cab" nothing is off-limits. Mmwhahahaha.

January - The Perfect Month to F**k Yourself Up

Not in a good way.

I feel like I'm training like total pro (as in a "pro-fessional triathlete" not as in a "pro-stitute") these days. I have a coach, I had a couple of days with multiple workouts, I am constantly hungry and my leg is fucked up. It seems like January is the month when serious athletes and triathletes get hurt. Just to name a few: Chrissie Wellington has a fucked up hand from falling off her bike on a patch of ice, Lauren Groves has lost the use of both arms after doing an endo in Maui, Beth Shutt is laid up, Erin is laid up, Steve in a Speedo - in pain. Frayed Laces - nursing a sore ITB (but she runs ultras so she should get over it.) Kerrie was "hurt" with a hip flexor that wasn't firing, but I call "bullshit" because she ran a sub-3 hour marathon. (Of course now she claims to not be able to walk so good.) Tasha got a new rack, so her situation is a little different, but I like to acknowledge all the walking wounded out there. Meg - gimping. D - just has "issues." I am not sure they are really "injuries" but I like to include all manner of maladies happening in January. (D - I kid. I am just jealous that you only have to worry about one sport.) I am sure I have forgotten many others who are feeling less than 100%, suffice it to say you are forgotten but not forgotten (whatever, you know what I mean.) So, I must be a "serious triathlete" because I, too, am hurt in the month of January.

Today, I bit that bullet that is healthcare and went to see the doc about my bum ITB/knee/hip. I followed the whole "keep going until it affects your stride, stroke, etc." rule of thumb and this morning at masters I just couldn't take it any more. It hurt to kick and push off the wall and swimming for me has NEVER hurt. (My fly was rocking today though.) I have an appointment with a PT on Friday morning. This will certainly be a new experience. Until then I am on easy spinning, easy running and swimming - as long as it doesn't hurt. I was also supposed to run the Frozen Half Marathon on Saturday, but I will be sitting this one out. It was a "fun" race and I don't need to push it. The weather looks to be questionable with rain/freezing rain a 70% possibility. Why would I want to run in that crap anyway? So, thank you ITB, your discomfort has saved me from different discomfort and misery that would be running in freezing rain.

Let's hope that come February everyone is feeling better and not all sitting around talking about their various aches and pains like a bunch of blue-hairs and gummers at a 24 hour bingo tournament. And let's hope my insurance covers this PT, because that would be more painful than anything my ITB could throw at me.

Preservatives

On my Facebook page a week ago or so I posted a picture of this great older guy with an awesome sweatshirt. The picture was terrible, but people liked it. Sitting at the coffee shop just now I see the same guy with the same sweatshirt so I asked him if I could take a picture.



He and his wife were awesome! He's 87 and she's 83. I would have never guessed. And they both had great senses of humor. I hope I am that fun and happy with my wife at that age.

"The Procrastinators"

Here is a picture of our living room taken December 6th.

Pretty.




Here is a picture of our living room taken moments ago.

Pretty sad.


Not much has changed. We have become "The Procrastinators." Since the start of 2010 a whole 14 days ago we haven't done a damn thing that needs to be done. There are five baskets of laundry that we trip over constantly in our bedroom waiting to be folded. And then there are the Christmas decorations.

For someone who talked so much about his dislike for the holidays, I seem to have an incredibly high tolerance for keeping the Christmas decorations around. And it seems like neither A nor I have any urgency to take them all down as A said at dinner, "We should probably take the Christmas tree down one of these days," and I replied, "uh huh," and then we went on to talk about something completely different. So what does this all mean? One of two things - A has adopted a sense of Zen for 2010 or she is medicating - self or prescribed, I am not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that I am down to two pairs of underpants so I better fold that fricking laundry before I completely run out.
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Some completely unrelated items:

The Minnesota Wild beat the Vancouver Canucks 5 -2 last night. Woohoo! Go Wild! (Clever, huh?)

Blog commenter cinthia - please send me an email (go to my profile.) I have a couple of questions for you. Thanks.

I did indeed kill my iPod with my own sweat. How am I so certain? Well, it doesn't work and a little dust of salt crystals puff out around the touch wheel and the edges of the screen when I press on either of them. Today I buy a new iPod and a WATERPROOF case. Damn treadmill running.

New Discoveries

So, we have moved on from the treadmill updates. It has now become a part of my training regimen. I have even added myself to my wife's "health club" membership so I can run whenever I need to. It all still grosses me out and the list of shit I hate about "health clubs" grows or is reinforced every time I go (many times it is reinforced by stuff I do, but that is neither here nor there.) Anyway.

What "new discoveries" do you speak of, you ask? I have discovered that I am trimming down with all this new activity. I am not really "losing weight" - at least not that I can say for certain because I have a tendency to weigh myself when I am totally dehydrated and that is never accurate. "How are you so sure you are 'trimming down?'" you ask. It has nothing to do with how my clothes fit or comments from other people. You know, let me walk you through my discovery.

At night as I am getting ready to go to bed I probably do the same thing most everyone else does - take off my clothes, put on some pajamas of some sort, take a fist full of pills (whatever is lying around or has colors that match my pajamas) and brush my teeth. (I probably pee somewhere in there, too, followed by very thorough hand washing, but you aren't really interested in that.) I typically just wear pajama pants - I got these really kick-ass ones at Costco for like ten bucks, but I digress. So, as I am brushing my teeth I am staring at myself in the mirror and thinking the usual guy thoughts, "Damn, I really should do some 'manscaping,'" "I can't believe how gray my chest hair is getting," "Is one of my nipples higher than the other?" "Why do I even have nipples?" And as I am lost in my thoughts I start the absentminded old-guy scratching and picking. Inevitably this leads to me swirling a finger around inside my belly button. I usually have some lint that has accumulated throughout the day, so it tends to be a productive endeavor. No one wants a dirty belly button.

On many of these occasions I ponder the risk of sticking my finger too far in and poking a hole in my stomach and then wondering if my guts would spew out like a fountain of strawberry jelly or if I would just start to fly around the room backwards like someone letting the air out of a balloon. But recently I realized that my finger was "bottoming out" a lot sooner than it had in the recent past. I wondered, "Is this true? Is my belly button filling with lint that I have been inadvertently packing in there for years? No, it looks clean. Is my belly button trying to escape? No, that is just silly. Does this mean that my belly button is no longer the deep well of oral hygiene distracted fun it once was?" Keep in mind that as I am pondering all these questions I am still brushing my teeth and my finger is still in my belly button (just in case it is trying to escape.)

Then it hit me. My belly button has not changed! The flabdomen material surrounding it has begun to decrease! I have tested this hypothesis over many evenings and I do believe that I am losing some of that frustrating spare tire (now when I say "spare tire" I am referring to more of a spare road bike tire or, probably more accurately, a mountain bike tire rather than a car tire or a truck tire or, heaven forbid, one of those big dumptruck tires.) It looks like all this activity might be paying off. It might mean I need to buy new clothes again. I hope I can find some kick-ass jeans at Costco.

Finnism

F: "Dad, will you help me study the challenge spelling words?"
Me: "Sure. Do you need to study the main spelling words, too?"
F: "No. I'm familiar with those."

(Do seven-year-old, 2nd graders talk like this?)

No More, Please!

Today I hit the treadmill for the second time. Isn't two times in a lifetime more than enough? (And when I say "lifetime" I don't mean "Lifetime" as in "Lifetime Fitness" where I happened to be running on aforementioned treadmill. Although, the less time I can spend at the "health club" known as "Lifetime Fitness" the better.)

Today's run was better. First, I started it at about 11 AM rather than around 5 PM the last time. Second, the club was emptier. Although people still insisted on running right next to me even though there were tons of empty treadmills. Third, and most importantly, the run was shorter. I got new headphones that hook over my ears so they don't fall out, so that helped even more.

As I indicated before, I can't watch TV while I run or while I bike on the trainer. I picked the treadmill that wasn't directly in front of a TV. Here was my view:



I stared at that column for an hour.

At the end of it all I had successfully flung sweat all over the place. Again, why would anyone want to run next to me?





I just left it like that so the next person would know how hard I worked and they would feel inadequate. (No, I didn't. I cleaned up thoroughly.)

Afterward, I was chatting with MS - my fellow IMWI attendee and the person I "used" to get into the "health club." Anywho, she was talking about her coach. He had her do a swim test and lift, which she did while I was running. So, we were talking about what we were each doing and her coach has her quitting drinking, quitting coffee and keeping all sorts of records of her nutrition and all sorts of other "metrics." I told her my coach just gives me killer workouts to do and I do them.

Now we have a "Biggest Loser" type scenario - we are going to see whose coach will punish them the most. (And who is going to see the biggest gains - not in weight, hopefully.) It will be fun to see what happens in the "elimination room."

Going Nowhere

That is how I felt running on a treadmill for the first time since I started running over two years ago. How did I succumb to such a miserable fate? Well, I just could NOT run for 11 miles at endurance pace in single digit temps on the uneven, icy roads and sidewalks. I have either come to my senses or turned into a pussy (you be the judge.)

Since I hate the "health club" I do not have a membership, but my wife and kids do, so I went as a guest of my wife. Actually, I didn't. A and I had devised a plan where she would work out, then, when she was almost done, she would call me and I would leave the kids locked in their rooms and head to the club where she would welcome me as her guest and then leave shortly after to free the kids from their prisons. I walked in, did not see A, so I kept walking. No one stopped me or asked for a membership card. I looked for A and then sat and watched TV until she showed (it was a couple of minutes and I didn't want her to waste time looking for me - aren't I considerate?)

All the treadmills on the main floor were full but A pointed me to the ones upstairs that are reserved for "personal training." They were completely empty so I picked one in the front row at the very end. (Why is any of this important? It's not really except I thought it would keep me from being surrounded by weirdos.)

I brought my iPod loaded with fast pace house music to help pass the time, a bottle to drink and a Roctane because, hey, I am all about overkill. I started my run. All was going fine. Then I started to sweat. Not many of you, dear reader, have seen me in all my workout glory, but I am what is known as "a heavy sweater."

Not this kind of "heavy sweater."


This kind of "heavy sweater."

But without the glowering look, stubby alligator arms, ravishing good looks and movie "career."

The bouncing up and down of my stride combined with my slippery ear sweat kept making my ear buds fall out. After about a half hour of this nonsense I turned off the music and just gave up. Now I was doomed to hear everything that was going on around me. Of course, soon after I was joined to my right by Snorty-Lung-Biscuit-Coughing-Whistling-Whispering-Guy. Dude! I am like 18 inches from you and you are totally grossing me out! (He became #4,209 on the list of things I hate about "health clubs.")

One of the other reasons I hate the treadmill and the "health club" is that I am always afraid that I will end up being Sweaty-Leering-Guy. I can do a pretty good job of focusing on a distant point and not looking around, but people kept walking into my field of vision and although I was looking through them I am sure the guys thought I was staring at their crotches and the women thought I was leering at their butts. So I had to find a neutral place to look. And I can't watch TV while I run. It makes the time go even slower in my mind.

I stared at a sprinkler head in the ceiling for 45 minutes - altering my gaze only to check mileage and time. Running on a treadmill is DUMB!

To add to my anxiety I didn't realize until too late that I was right in front of the only water fountain in the area. So there I am - I have totally sweat through my shirt and shorts and I am flinging sweat all over the machine and people have to walk by me on a regular basis.

I finished my run, changed quick and the froze my ass off walking to the car. I guess it was better than waterboarding myself with a wet face mask around the lakes for about 90 minutes AND freezing my ass off.

At least I am not Smelly-Wheezy-Fat-and-Creepy Guy. (At least I don't think I am.)

Going Solo

My runs with other people have become few and far between. Since starting to run with "the guys" after running for a couple of years with "the ladies" I am now running more by myself. It's not that I have don't like "the guys," it's just that things have changed for my training.

First off the weather has changed - it is fucking cold! (There is no other way to describe it.) And it's dark. So, dark and fucking cold are not working for me this year. I have been doing my runs more in the middle of the day so it's not quite as fucking cold and there is some daylight so I can see where I am running so I don't break my ankle on un-shoveled sidewalks and icy snowbanks.

Secondly, now that I have a coach my runs have become longer and more intense because we are on a plan. So for now I run alone.

It's not all bad. I get to run in daylight. I get to see other lone runners, like the woman I saw on Wednesday with mascara running down her cheeks. What woman puts makeup on to go for a run, especially eye makeup when it's single digit temps and your eyes are bound to water? And she was fairly speedy so it didn't seem like she was a novice runner. There are the over-dressed and under-dressed and then there are the people I can't even see because I have icicles on my hat, eyebrows and eyelashes. (As I write this I realize I really hate this time of year - why do I stay? Because I like to talk about the weather.)

Oh, look. It's time for another run. Now where is that snowmobile suit? It looks so good with running shoes.

Catch up

So, everyone does those end of the year recaps followed by resolutions or goals for the new year. I like to read other people's recaps, but I think mine would just be a bunch of bullshit. Besides (as someone already pointed out) if you read my blog you don't need a recap. And I have kind of listed out my goals already so that would be a bunch of bullshit, too. (In case you didn't realize it, one of my goals is to use as much foul language as possible in every blog post even if it appears that I might have Tourettes when I type, cocksucker bitch whore. Not really, but it sure seems that way.)

I haven't posted much for the last couple of weeks what with my complete and utter dislike of the holidays and with the kids being home from school. Let me catch you up.

We decorated for Christmas and that fucking Empire is everywhere. I am starting to not like those guys.


(F would correct me and point out that that is, in fact, a clone trooper and not actually part of the Empire, yet.)

F had his school Christmas concert. (E's was earlier and I am not sure why we don't have any pictures of her.) Notice his fashionably disheveled look and the way he wears his belt rakishly off to the side. So fashion forward.


Joy of joys! My kids learned to snowboard! Here is E carving on her heel edge (actually she probably fell there, but I like to imagine it as the perfect heel edge turn.)


Here is F also executing a perfect heel edge carve.


My Grommets!


The best part was after their third lesson the three of us went snowboarding together. (I took a refresher lesson and found that I didn't forget much.) I can not remember the last time I had so much fun with my kids. I was so proud of them. We went again the next week and I might lobby for a Colorado vacation next year.

Of course presents were exchanged. Nothing too exciting for the kids or A. (This is my blog so who cares about what they got anyway, right?) I got some cool ones and some strange ones.

Cool Ones


I have to admit this was on my list. I was only half joking when I put it on there, but I was totally excited when I opened it. I haven't put it together yet. I promised the kids they could help. I also need to put all the Christmas decorations away so there will be room on the mantle for it when it's done. (Just kidding, honey!)

(No, I'm not kidding.)


I got this one, too. The funny part about this is that the price sticker already said "Willis Tower." (It was renamed like a month ago.)


I put this one together already. It is prominently displayed on my dresser. (Notice all the people in that post card staring at it in amazement.)

A got me these:

Now the whole family has snowshoes. We are planning to go to my aunt and uncle's cabin sometime this winter so we will have an opportunity to use them.

Strange Ones



WTF!?

I don't think I ever indicated a desire to kill my wife and a "friend" of her's so I am not sure where the idea for these came from. They went back to "fucking Macy's." I hate that place so much I returned them and then was bound and determined (with the kids in tow) to get something else so I wouldn't have to return. I looked for a sweater, a duvet cover, underwear - nothing! Then I decided on this:



Perfect!

There. Now you are all caught up from my last couple of weeks. On to all the new excitement of 2010.